


Roman Holiday

by nonbinaryspock



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: College AU, Drug Use, I don't legit ship Jonathan and Roman I just needed an asshole to pair him with, Jonathan is mixed folks, M/M, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Trans Character, mixed race character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 19,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryspock/pseuds/nonbinaryspock
Summary: Deep down, Jonathan knows that sleeping with anyone who shows the slightest bit of interest in him isn’t the best way to go about exploring his sexuality. And he knows that doing copious amounts of drugs isn't the best way to manage his mental health. Deep down, he knows that.It feels fucking good though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's start by setting the scene.

Jonathan tiptoes around the girl’s bedroom, collecting his various possessions—backpack, shoes, jacket—as quietly as he possibly can. He bumps into the bedside table, biting back a swear as he struggles not to crash into anything else. He waits.

The girl—Jonathan can’t remember her name for the life of him—rolls over onto her side but seems to remain asleep. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief before escaping the bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible. He grabs an apple from the kitchen counter before slipping out of the apartment and into the hall.

He checks his phone in the elevator. Two missed calls from Roman, a few texts from Victor. A few dating app notifications. He should probably call Roman back. Or at least text him.

He puts his phone away as the elevator doors slide open.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’d you end up last night?”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan mumbles, swallowing two Aspirin dry.

“Well, we were about to leave the party and go to Shake Shack but when I went to go find you, you were gone,” Victor says. He holds a plastic soda cup out to Jonathan. “Want some?”

He wrinkles his nose, peering at the murky liquid within. “What’s in it?”

“A shit ton of five hour energy and a diet Dr. Pepper.”

“I’ll pass.” Jonathan reaches into his backpack, taking out a notebook. He has to finish his statistics homework.  “Did you go to Shake Shack anyway?”

“Yeah. They gave me free root beer float because they thought I had cancer.” He smoothes a hand over his hairless head. “Perks of alopecia, am I right?”

“Nice.”

“What about you?” he asks again. “Where’d you end up?”

“I went home last night. After the party.”

Victor scoffs, taking a sip of that horrifying concoction. “No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” he echoes, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself.

“Did you end up at Roman’s place?” he asks slyly.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I ended up with some girl.” He rubs his eyes with his palm. He can’t remember how to calculate p-values. It’s like his brain is completely liquid, just sloshing around inside his skull. Maybe he’ll skip that part for now. “She had Xanax.”

“So you fucked her for a Xanax?”

“No. I don’t know.” He scrawls an equation that he is almost certain is wrong. “When you put it like that it sounds really pathetic.”

“Because it _is_ pathetic, dude.”

Well. He’s not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bromance we never knew we needed


	3. Chapter 3

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan murmurs, pressing his lips to the base of Roman’s throat. “I was high. I forgot.”

“You shouldn’t get high so often,” he says, bringing one hand to the back of Jonathan’s head.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” he counters.

“That’s normal. Everyone drinks.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s healthy.” He kisses his way up Roman’s neck, pausing to snag his earlobe between his teeth.

“Well, who the fuck are you to judge, huh?” he grumbles, pulling away abruptly. “So what if I drink sometimes? At least I’m not popping pills every fucking night.”

“Not every night.”

“Most nights.”

“Okay, fine. Sorry I said anything.” Jonathan rolls onto his back with a sigh. He feels his partner slide out of bed. Listens as his footsteps recede, as he slams the bedroom door.

He can be such a dick sometimes.


	4. Chapter 4

“Can I see your psych notes from today? I missed class.”

“Sure.” Jonathan retrieves a notebook from his bag, passing it to Harley. “Where were you?”

“I had a dick appointment,” she says simply, flipping through the notebook. She finds the page she was looking for, beginning to copy Jonathan’s notes into her own. “You know how it is.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He’s never once heard someone use the term ‘dick appointment’.

“Well, you know, sometimes you just gotta… go get some dick. Y’know?”

“I guess.”

“Speaking of, how’s your boyfriend?” she asks, squinting down at Jonathan’s terrible, tiny handwriting. She holds the notebook up for him to see. “What does that say?”

He adjusts his glasses. “Conditioning.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Harley instantly looks up from the notebook, a wave of disappointment crossing her face. “Did you and that guy break up?”

“We weren’t dating to begin with. We’re just… It’s casual.”

“But you’re still hooking up with him?”

“Not just him.”

“Ooh!” she squeals, reaching out to playfully slap Jonathan’s arm. “Look at you, Mr. Hotshot.”

“Oh, shut up,” he mutters, his face flushing. He really would prefer not to talk about this.

“You know, I wouldn’t expect you to be the type to sleep around. You seem like a nice, monogamous lad.”

Jonathan shrugs. “I’m trying to be less… uptight.”

“Oh,” Harley says knowingly, looking back at the notes. “I get it. You were a prude in high school so now you’re playing catch up with everyone else.”

“I mean… Yeah.” He wouldn’t call himself a prude. It’s not his fault that he—well, that he has to ‘play catch up’, as Harley so delicately put it. He just… didn’t have the opportunities everyone else did. That’s all.

“Hey, no shame. Better late than never.”

“Right,” he murmurs, tugging at a stray thread on his sleeve.

She flips a page, frowning down at the notebook. “Now, you’ve _got_ to tell me what this sentence says. I can’t read your handwriting for shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> study buddies


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets get introspective

Jonathan still hasn’t gotten used to sleeping with men. Even daring to think of himself as gay is… uncomfortable. For a while he thought it might be a fluke, thought that maybe Roman was the only one. And maybe a little part of him wishes that was the case.

But it’s not, and that’s… that’s fine.

It’s just—it’s downright weird. One minute, he’s a small town kid who’s never even been kissed before and the next—the next he’s some kind of queer sex freak or something. That’s not normal, he’s very sure that isn’t normal.

And he’s not really handling it well.

Deep down, Jonathan knows that having sex with every guy who shows the slightest bit of interest in him isn’t the best way to go about exploring his sexuality. And he knows that being desirable won’t make him feel any better about himself. About what he is. Deep down, he knows that.

It feels fucking good though.

And maybe he deserves to feel good for once.


	6. Chapter 6

“There’s a party tonight.”

“Okay.”

Roman tugs his shirt down over his head. “I’m going.”

He always does. “Okay.” Jonathan stares up at the ceiling. He has a headache.

“You should come,” he offers, standing up to buckle his belt.

“I have homework.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.” He really does have homework. It’s just not the real reason he doesn’t want to go.

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” he asks, claiming a seat atop Jonathan’s legs.

“Homework.” It’s like Roman doesn’t even pretend to listen.

“All night?” He dips his head to kiss a line up Jonathan’s neck.

“It’s a lot of homework.”

“Okay, Urkel.”

“My scholarship is dependent on me keeping up my GPA.” He sighs softly as Roman’s lips move up to his jaw. “Unlike you, I don’t have rich parents to pay for my every whim so I can’t just run around doing whatever I want all the time.”

“My parents worked hard to put me through college.” There’s a touch of hostility in his voice. But just a touch.

Jonathan doesn’t want to have another fight with him. “I know,” he says. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmurs, his breath warm against Jonathan’s skin. For a moment, Jonathan wishes he would just… stay. Just this once.

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t apologize.”

“Okay. Sorry.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Ready for our study date?” Harley asks brightly, bearing a massive pizza box with a stack of notebooks on top of it. “I brought nibbles.”

“Seems like more than a nibble,” Jonathan remarks. “How do you expect us to be able to finish that thing?”

She scoffs. “Please, I could finish a pizza this size all by myself in one sitting.”

“Impressive.”

She closes the door of his dorm room with her foot, setting the box down on his bed. “Do you want to eat first and then study so we’re not hungry while we’re trying to work, _or_ study first and then eat so we can use the pizza to motivate ourselves?”

“Can’t we eat and study at the same time?”

“I don’t want to get pizza grease all over my notes.”

“Fair. Let’s eat first then, I’m fucking starving.”

“Awesome.” She clears the notebooks off the box, popping the lid open. “Do you like anchovies? I got anchovies. You can pick them off though, if you’re not an anchovy person.”

“I like anchovies.”

“Great!” she chirps, passing him a slice of pizza. “Oh my God, I _have_ to tell you about this girl I met the other day.”

“Okay.”

“She’s _so_ gorgeous, she works at this plant nursery down the way from my favorite coffee shop. And she’s super cool too, like, Instagram model cool.”

“Wow.” He’s only kind of listening. Is he a bad friend? He has a headache. He takes a bite of the pizza.

“We went out for tea and then we went thrift shopping and _then_ I went back to her dorm and we watched Dear White People on Netflix.”

“Did you hook up with her?”

“No. That’s the best part, it was like… _actually_ a date. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone on one of those?” She shakes her head. “The last time I went on a legit date was with that guy who stole my favorite hat.”

“Oh yeah. The British one, right?”

“You got it.”

He shakes his head, taking another bite. “You have terrible taste in men.”

“Look who’s talking,” Harley says, her mouth full. Somehow she’s already plowed through two slices of pizza. "Didn’t you hook up with a guy who had Nazi memorabilia all over his dorm room?”

Harley loves to over-exaggerate. “He had one Confederate flag above his bed.”

“Either way, that’s pretty fucking bad taste, doncha think?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t know he was a racist until I was in his room. You chase after guys who are openly terrible from the get-go.”

“Touche.”


	8. Chapter 8

“We still on for tonight?”

Jonathan has no idea what Victor is talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Victor folds a black tee shirt with a picture of a cat on it, setting it with other identical shirts on the display table. “A couple days ago, you said you’d go to this party with me tonight. At Oswald’s place?”

He has no memory of that. “When was this?”

“Wednesday. In Humanities.”

Oh. He was… very high during that class. “Oh yeah,” he says, pretending to remember. “Right.” He arranges a stack of pants according to size.

“So, are you still coming?” he asks, a touch of something like hope in his voice. “It’ll be fun. There’ll be weed.”

“Weed makes me anxious.”

“Well, there’ll be alcohol and other stuff too. And boys,” he adds, as if that’s the main selling point of the party. “Lots of boys.”

“Boys also make me anxious.”

“Everything makes you anxious.”

“Not everything.”

“Okay, so Benzos don’t make you anxious. Anything else?”

Jonathan shrugs. “Classical music can be calming.”

“Great. Two things. You’re the picture of mental health.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Paranoid piece of shit.”

“That’s me,” he says in a slightly sing-song voice.

“So, are you coming or what?”

Jonathan sighs. He should probably show up at least. Socialize or something. And Victor seems like he actually… wants him to be there. Which is odd. No one ever wants him around. “I guess,” he says after a while.

“Really?” he asks, perking up a bit.

“Sure, whatever. I’m not doing anything tonight anyway.”

“Thank God.” He flashes a quick smile before turning back to the stack of shirts in front of him. “I was beginning to worry that I’d have to hang out with Oswald’s prissy ass all night.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Him

Jonathan has never been a party person. He will never be a party person. So he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to force himself to enjoy going to parties. Isn’t that the definition of insanity or something?

Victor, despite his previous qualms about having no one to hang out with, ditched him almost instantly. Which doesn’t bother him too much. It just makes his entire presence at this event entirely pointless. So he’s been camped out in what is either an enormous closet or a tiny sitting room for about an hour. He found a half smoked joint sitting in an ashtray and decided to just finish it off. Anxiety be damned.

Just as he’s depositing the butt of the joint in the ashtray, the door swings open and a guy slips into the room.

“Oh,” the intruder says, looking vaguely startled by Jonathan’s presence. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

“Oh.” What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

He clears his throat, opening a chest of drawers and rummaging around inside. “Oswald’s going to be pissed that you smoked in here.”

“Someone else was smoking in here before me. Figured the damage was already done.”

“You’ve got a point.” He continues searching through drawers, looking for God knows what.

Jonathan watches him. He looks young, ridiculously young. And he’s kind of beautiful. Green eyes, auburn hair, a face full of freckles. Like the main character in some trite young adult novel. Stereotypically attractive and completely unattainable.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Oh God. He didn’t realize he was staring. His mind goes blank. “Uh…” Fuck. His face feels warm. And his feet. “Spaced out,” he manages after what feels like an eternity. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He’s holding a plain blue shirt, presumably liberated from one of the drawers. “Why are you sitting in here alone anyway?”

“Not really a party person.”

“Oh, yeah, me neither,” he says quickly. “I’m just here because I sort of live here, so… You know.”

“Right.” It’s like he doesn’t have any thoughts in his head. But… he’s thinking that he doesn’t have any thoughts, so he must… have them. But he doesn’t feel them. It’s sort of nice.

“Did you come here with someone?” The words sound like they’re coming from very far away. Almost like someone calling to him from another room.

“No.” Why did he say that? That’s not true. “Yes, my friend. Victor.”

“There’s, like, twelve Victors here. Gay Victor or European Victor?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “Bald Victor.”

“Oh, _him_. I love him.”

“Yeah. We work together. And he’s in some of my classes.”

“That’s cool. He dated one of my friends, so we’ve hung out a couple times.”

“Oh. Are you friends with Diedre?” Jonathan asks.

“Yeah.”

He remembers Diedre. He had to cover about half of Victor’s shifts so they could go hook up after class. And she always ate all the Oreos when they hung out together. Nice girl though. “Makes sense.”

“Yep.”

Jonathan clears his throat. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. Say.” He balls the shirt up in one hand, extending the other to Jonathan. “Edward.”

“Jonathan.” He shakes Edward’s hand. Somehow he feels like he’s doing it wrong.

“Well,” he says softly, gesturing with the shirt. “I should probably give this to Harvey. He… he threw up. Like a lot.”

“Oh.”

“It was nice meeting you,” he says with a small smile.

“Yeah. You too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m getting a Lyft. Want to come?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jonathan can feel Victor’s eyes on him. “What?”

“Nothing. You good?”

“Peachy.”

“What did you take?” Victor asks casually, looking down at his phone.

Valium. “What makes you think I took something?” He found it in Oswald’s medicine cabinet.

“You always take something.”

“I just smoked a little,” he mumbles. “That’s it.”

“I thought you didn’t like weed.”

“I don’t. But I was bored and it was there.”

Victor is quiet for a few moments. He keeps his gaze fixed on his phone, watching the little animated cars travel across the screen. “Alright,” he says finally.

Jonathan can tell that Victor doesn’t believe him. But at least he’s letting it go for now. “How long until the car gets here?”

“About six minutes.”

“Okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

Jonathan buries his face between Roman’s shoulder blades, squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to steady his breathing, to slow his heart rate. As bad as the nightmares are, it feels good to have someone to wake up to. Even if Roman generally manages to sleep through Jonathan’s bouts of night terrors, sleep paralysis, and insomnia.

They’re in Jonathan’s dorm room tonight. It’s about the size of Roman’s closet and nowhere near as nice, but it’s home. Roman hates staying overnight, but Jonathan was too high to drive to his apartment and the only thing Roman hates more than staying in the dorm is playing chauffer.

So there they are. Cramped in a twin bed that’s barely big enough for Jonathan, let alone both of them. Roman is, of course, sound asleep. Jonathan marvels at how easy it is for him to fall and stay asleep. Every night. It’s like magic.

Roman stirs, rolling onto his back. He remains asleep.

Jonathan wraps an arm around his waist, lifting his head to rest it on his chest. It’s nice to have someone to wake up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to sound so whiny but I genuinely feel like no one is reading this fic and I'm considering just taking it down and moving on to something else that people would be more interested in.


	12. Chapter 12

Jonathan gasps softly, fingers latching onto a handful of Roman’s hair. His beautiful, straight hair. “I’m going to be late for class,” he mumbles, stifling jagged breaths.

“Skip,” Roman replies, kissing a path along the inside of Jonathan’s thigh.

“But my grades—” He cuts himself off, clapping a hand over his mouth as Roman’s tongue sets to work in a manner that can only be described as devious. He tightens his grip on his lover’s hair. “Bastard,” he says once he’s regained his ability to speak.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he murmurs, giving Jonathan a brief respite before returning to the task at hand.

Jonathan moans into his palm, feeling himself sink into the mattress. He does love it. Just a little. Loves the way Roman’s thumbs settle in the hollows of his hips. Loves the little sounds he makes. The way his neck curves as his head bobs slowly up and down. And maybe he loves Roman too.

But just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the closest I will ever come to writing nsfw stuff lol


	13. Chapter 13

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Harley remarks, passing Jonathan a paper cup of coffee.

“Am I?” Jonathan takes the cup and the sugar packets stacked on top of it, popping the lid off and emptying them into the drink.

“Well, you’re not in a bad mood. So, for you, that’s good.” She sips her own drink, taking her iPad out of her backpack. “Are you high or something?”

“Why does everyone think I’m high all the time?” he grumbles, stirring the coffee with his pen. “Can’t I just be in a fucking decent mood every once in a while?”

“ _There’s_ the Jonathan I know.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh lighten up,” she teases. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your ‘fucking decent’ mood.”

“It’s fine.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “It was all just… endorphins, anyway.”

“Well, isn’t that what all moods are?”

“I guess.” As the post-sex euphoria subsides, Jonathan becomes painfully aware of how terrible he feels. His brain feels heavy in his skull. His eyes hurt. _Everything_ hurts. But that’s sort of just… baseline for him. Back to normal.

Why doesn’t it ever last?


	14. Chapter 14

“Are you coming over tonight?” Roman asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Can’t. I have a paper due.” Jonathan stares up at the sky. Watches a group of birds fly by.

“You can work on it at my place.”

“If I go to your place I’m not going to get any work done and you know it.”

He scoffs, a puff of smoke passing his lips. “Well, would you rather have fun with me or be cooped up all night with your paper?”

“I would _rather_ pass my Goddamn classes,” he mutters.

“Hey, don’t get all pissy with me, okay? Be grateful that I actually want to make you feel good.”

“I am. But I can’t just blow off school for you.” A cloud floats lazily across the sky, passing over the sun for a few moments before continuing on its way.

“You blow off school to get high,” Roman says bitterly. “Or to hang out with Victor.”

“Are you jealous of Victor?”

“No, I’m not fucking—Why don’t you ever want to hang out with me?” he snaps.

“What are you talking about? I hang out with you all the time.” Jonathan tears a few blades of grass out of the ground beside him.

“You’ve always got some fucking assignment due,” he continues, as if he didn’t hear Jonathan. “Or you’re too fucked up to come over. Or you promised one of your friends that you’d go to some stupid party—even though you _never_ want to go to parties with me—and I’m just so fucking _sick_ of how fake you are.”

He tears the blades in half. “Maybe I’d want to go to parties with you if your friends weren’t all rich white assholes that always try to talk to me about Childish Gambino and think it’s okay to call me a fag, even though I’m not even g—”

“Hey, they call me a fag too. It’s just how we talk to each other.”

“That’s kind of fucked up, don’t you think?” he retorts.

“So you think my friends are fucked up?” Roman asks accusatorily.

“No, I mean—They’re just rude to me. Why don’t you care how people treat me?”

“I care, of course I care,” he says, his tone softening. “Baby—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, don’t call me baby.”

“Look, Jonathan…” He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want to spend time with you. Is that so bad?”

“No. Of course not.”

“So why are we fighting?”

“I… I don’t know.” He watches the shredded blades of grass blow away in the wind, carried off to some other part of campus far away from them. He wishes he could follow after them, just… drift away to somewhere else. Wouldn’t that be nice? “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Roman stubs out his cigarette—what a waste, he barely smoked it—and stands up. “I’m going to be late for Calc. See you tonight?”

Jonathan sighs. “Yeah. Okay.”

The paper will just have to wait.


	15. Chapter 15

Jonathan picks up an apple. Should he buy apples or oranges? He should get orange juice. He doesn’t like it, but… well, what if he gets sick? He always craves orange juice when he’s sick. He’s holding an apple. He puts it back.

Okay. Roman asked him to get eggs. Eggs. E-g-g-s. Why is he thinking about eggs so much? It’s like… he has a thought and then needs to convince himself he had it. Okay. Eggs. He’s going to buy eggs.

He finds himself in the bread aisle holding a bag of bagels. Fuck.

Eggs.

He’s so tired.

He’s here to get eggs.

It’s like he’s struggling to stay awake all of a sudden. Like his eyelids are full of sand. Or something. It would be so nice to just… drift off to sleep right about now.

Just go get the fucking eggs, stupid piece of—

“Hey.”

Oh God. Jonathan turns, finding himself confronted by… an absolutely gorgeous young man. “Hello.” He knows this guy. He knows he knows him, but… Can’t quite place him.

He clears his throat delicately. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No, I—” His brain kicks into overdrive, sifting through the thousands of names he’s learned in his lifetime. And then it comes to him. “You were at Oswald’s party,” he announces triumphantly. “Ed…ward?”

Edward beams, apparently delighted that Jonathan remembered him. “That’s me. And you are Jonathan.”

“That I am.” Why did he say that? ‘That I am’. He’s twenty years old, why is he talking like an old wizard in a TV show? “What’s up?” The lights are too bright.

“Oh, y’know. Groceries,” he says, gesturing with his shopping basket. “Picking up stuff for dinner.”

“Yeah, me too.” No he’s not. That’s not what he’s doing. He’s just here to buy eggs for his… for Roman. Why did he lie?

“So, um… I had a good time talking to you the other night,” he says coyly.

“Yeah. I did too.” He barely remembers it. Something about a shirt? And vomit?

“And I was thinking that we should hang out sometime.”

Oh. Huh.

“Can I get your number?” Edward asks, bringing Jonathan back to reality.

In that moment, it’s like the fog in his brain clears. He’s wide awake, stone sober, and one hundred percent sure that he’s getting hit on.

He realizes that he hasn’t yet said anything in response. How long has it been since Edward asked the question? Damn it, he’s still high. He should’ve known better than to think he had come down already. “Give me your phone.”

He hands his cell phone to Jonathan, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Are you feeling okay? You look really… clammy.”

“That’s just how I look sometimes,” he says, typing his phone number into Edward’s contacts. “Here.” He hands the phone back.

“Thanks. So, I’ll text you or something.”

“Yeah. Or something.”


	16. Chapter 16

“My parents want to meet you.”

“Oh shit,” Harley scoffs, taking a swig out of the vodka bottle.

“Shut up,” Roman grumbles. He turns to face Jonathan, all but blocking Harley from view. “They want you to come to dinner with us. Next Friday.”

Jonathan gestures for her to pass him the bottle. “Why?” He takes a sip. It’s cheap and tastes like shit. He’s never been much of an alcohol person anyway.

“Because we’re dating.”

It’s Jonathan’s turn to scoff. “Since when are we dating?”

“What do you mean since when?”

“Well, you never want to call me your boyfriend, and we’ve never been on an actual date, so I just assumed—”

“Does anyone want more chicken nuggets?” Harley interrupts with an awkward chuckle. “I’m going to get more nuggets.”

“Look, for the purposes of this dinner, we’re dating.”

“But not for any other purpose?” He can hear Harley whisper, ‘ _Yikes_ ’ from the kitchen. “It’s not like I mind our… arrangement. But I would rather you didn’t lie about me to impress your parents.”

“Well, you can clarify the exact nature of our ‘arrangement’ at dinner next Friday,” Roman says brightly, giving Jonathan’s hand a little patronizing pat. “And cut your hair before then. It’s getting kind of… unruly.”

Jonathan sighs, exchanging a glance with Harley—who has about ten chicken nuggets stuffed in her mouth. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll go to dinner. But if they start stirring a cup of tea in front of me, I’m leaving.”

Roman rolls his eyes, joining Harley in the kitchen. “I told you not to let him watch Get Out.”

“You should know by now that I have no authority to keep him from doing anything,” she says, taking a sip of her soda. She goes back into the living room, taking the lid off her drink and pouring a healthy amount of alcohol into it.

“The resemblance between you and Allison Williams’ character is uncanny,” Jonathan mutters.

“Oh, I don’t see why everything has to be about race with you,” he says dismissively. “It’s not like you’re even _actually_ black.”

Ouch.

“That’s not very woke of you,” Harley says, taking a pointed sip of her drink.

“Do your parents… know that I’m not white?” Jonathan asks slowly.

Roman doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He piles chicken nuggets and French fries onto a paper plate, dousing the whole thing with ranch dressing. If Jonathan didn’t know any better, he’d think he was the epitome of white trash.

“Roman,” he says. “Are you listening to me?”

“I… didn’t tell them anything one way or another.”

That’s code for ‘They’re expecting you to be white’. “Wonderful.”

 “Look, you pass anyway,” he says with a sigh. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that your parents are operating under the assumption that you have a white boyfriend, when in actuality you have a mixed fuck buddy.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Don’t be juvenile.”

“I’m just being honest. You could try it sometime.”

“Oh, that’s _cold_ ,” Harley says a little too loudly.

“Are we _really_ going to do this right now?” Roman snaps. “In front of your friend?”

“Better we get it out of the way now than have to deal with it at dinner.”

“Look, Jonathan—” He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They won’t care that you’re not white. And they won’t care that this isn’t… as serious as they may have believed. I just didn’t feel like it was necessary to explain the intricacies of our relationship right off the bat, alright?” He snatches the vodka bottle out of Harley’s hand, taking a long drink from it. “Are you satisfied with that?”

He’s far from satisfied. “Whatever.”

“Don’t sulk.”

“I’m not sulking.” He gets up from the sofa. “I’m going home.”

“Jon,” Harley warns, giving him a look. “Come on.”

“No. I’m leaving.” He doesn’t look at Roman. “Bye.”

“…Bye,” Roman says after a moment. “Call me when you get home.”

“Yeah. I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> white gays rlly be crazy


	17. Chapter 17

Edward gasps softly, latching onto a handful of Jonathan’s hair. His other hand finds its way to Jonathan’s waist, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt.

Jonathan presses kisses along Edward’s throat, working his way down to the exposed line of his clavicle. He tugs the collar of his shirt to the side in an attempt to expose a little more skin, but he only succeeds in revealing a black undershirt of some kind.

Edward pulls away. “Oh, um… I have to tell you something,” he says sheepishly.

Jonathan feels his heart miss a beat—he’s not sure if it’s his anxiety or his heart murmur—as he imagines the worst case scenario. Edward could say that he has an STD. Or that he’s straight. Or that he’s in a committed relationship with a very strong and aggressive man who has chronic anger management issues. “Is everything okay?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even.

“Yeah, I just… wanted to let you know that I’m transgender.” He clears his throat, eyes darting around the room. “Thought you might like to know before you decide to sleep with me.”

“Oh.” That was surprisingly innocuous. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Edward echoes. “So, are you still… interested?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time someone rejected me just because of what I do or don’t have,” he says, beginning to talk a little faster. “One time, this guy came over and, w-when I told him that I was—well, he hit me. Right in the face.” He offers an uncomfortable laugh. “Broke my nose too, see the bump?” He indicates a slight bump on the bridge of his nose. “So, um… you never know what’s going to happen.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He runs his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, pulling his head down a bit. “Kiss me again?” he murmurs.

“I’d be happy to.”


	18. Chapter 18

“How tall are you?”

“Six four.”

“Wow,” Edward says, stretching out on the bed. “Do people ask you that a lot?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan hurries to button his shirt, trying to simultaneously make his hair look presentable. Roman’s right, he does need to get it cut.

He pulls the covers around himself, rolling over onto his side to watch Jonathan get dressed. “I had a really nice time,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Me too.” He fastens his belt buckle.

“Are you leaving already?”

He pauses, hand hovering just above the jacket he was about to put on. “Do you… not want me to?” he asks carefully.

“I mean, you can stay if you want. You don’t have to, but… well, I’m not kicking you out or anything.” He props himself up with his elbow, making sure his chest remains covered by the blankets.

“Oh.” No one has ever… asked him to stay before. He sits down on the edge of the bed. “You really don’t mind?”

“If I minded then I wouldn’t have offered.”

“I guess that’s true.” He takes his belt off. Crawls into bed beside Edward, worming his way under the covers. Hesitantly, he reaches out to place a hand on Edwards hip.

Edward responds by pressing his face against Jonathan’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him. He does seem to be a very… tactile person. “Is this okay?” Edward mumbles into his chest.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” It’s actually sort of nice. To be held. Roman never holds him. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”


	19. Chapter 19

“You never called.”

Jonathan twists the cap off a bottle of Vicodin. Shakes two into his palm. He doesn’t know what Roman wants him to say.

“Last night. You said you’d call when you got home,” Roman continues, obviously trying to coax an explanation out of Jonathan.

He feels like his brain is thick with fog. Like his whole body is being crushed by the weight of the atmosphere. He feels awful. “I didn’t go home.” He swallows the pills dry.

“Where did you go?”

“Spent the night with someone.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Stares down at his food. “Guy or girl?” he asks finally, using his fork to push his eggs around the plate.

“Guy.”

“Was he cute?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he look like?”

Jonathan really doesn’t want to get into this right now. He taps a third pill out of the bottle. Swallows it. “Red hair, freckles. Crooked nose.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if he’d be your type.”

He scoffs. “What, are you worried I’m going to try to fuck him or something?”

“No.” Yes. He’s done it before.

“Why don’t you think he’s my type?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the dining hall table between them.

“He’s not masculine. Not really.” If he had to pick a word to describe Edward, the word would be ‘soft’. Which isn’t a bad thing. It just isn’t Roman’s type.

“Neither are you.”

Does Roman ever think before he speaks? “Okay.” He wishes the pills would kick in faster.

“I’m just saying, if you think I won’t like him because he’s not masculine… it’s not a deal breaker.”

“Right.”

He drums his fingers against the table. Looks at his watch. “I’ve got to go to Calc,” he says, standing up from the table. He pushes his plate toward Jonathan, patting the back of his hand. “Finish that off, will you? You look skinnier every second.”

“…Okay.”


	20. Chapter 20

“I’m sort of… seeing somebody.”

“Oh?”

“He knows about us,” Jonathan says quickly. “I told him.”

“Oh,” Edward says again, sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed. He’s drawing on his tablet with a stylus, his hair mussed and sticking up at all angles. “So you two have an arrangement or something?”

“Something like that.” He peers over Edward’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“A-ta-ta-ta,” he scolds, clutching the tablet to his chest. “It’s not finished.”

“Can’t you at least tell me what it is?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the curve of Edward’s neck in an attempt to get a look at the drawing.

Edward tightens his grip on the tablet. “It’s just a sketch for work.”

“Are you an artist?”

“I work for a video game developer,” he says. “I do concept sketches for characters, scenery, stuff like that.”

“Oh, cool.” Jonathan doesn’t know anything about video games. But he likes art. “Can I see some of your stuff?”

“…Yes, but not right now.” He locks the tablet and sets it down on the bed. “I have to take time to compile the best pieces I want to show you because a lot of them aren’t even that good and they’re all _super_ rough so—” He clears his throat, smoothing his hair down. “Next time.”

“Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

“That’s fair.” He lies back on the bed, adjusting to place his head in Jonathan’s lap. “Tell me about your boyfriend.”

“He’s not really my boyfriend,” Jonathan says quickly. “We’re just—He’s just Roman.”

“Is that his name or are you telling me his nationality?”

“It’s his name. But he might also be Italian, I’m not sure.”

“…It’s kind of a stupid name,” Edward says, tilting his head back to look up at Jonathan.

“Oh, absolutely.” He trails his fingers absently through Edward’s hair. “I’m meeting his parents in a couple days.”

“Oh wow,” he scoffs. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Jonathan sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I’m really fucking stressed about it. Every time I think about how terrible and awkward dinner is going to be I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack and then I have to take four Xanax.” Damn. He shouldn’t have said the part about the Xanax. That makes him seem crazy. “Just kidding,” he adds lamely. There. Fixed it.

“Kidding about which part? The panic attack or the Xanax?”

“…Which part do you think is weirder?”

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to slap Jonathan’s cheek gently. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You seem like the type of guy that parents _love_.”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a good track record with rich white folks.”

“These days, who does?” He leans over, delivering a quick kiss to Jonathan’s upper thigh. “It’ll be fine,” he says again. “Don’t worry too much.”

“Yeah. I’ll try not to.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who wanted longer chapters: this is for you

Jonathan sits stiffly in his truck, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He’s practically vibrating with anxious energy, despite the fact that he took three Oxys and a Xanax before he left the dorm. He doesn’t understand why they haven’t kicked in yet.

He reaches for the glove compartment with a shaking hand, rummaging around for the pill bottle he _knows_ is in there. After a few moments of searching, he finds it. Shakes two pills into his palm. Swallows them.

Maybe he should just turn around and go home. It’d be better for everyone if he just left. Roman would be angry, sure, but he’d be angrier if Jonathan _did_ show up and made a fool of himself. Which is sort of a given, if he’s being completely honest.

He exhales slowly, peeking out the car window to look at the front of the restaurant. He can make out the vague form of a man standing in the foyer through one of the glass panels beside the front door. It could be Roman. Waiting for him.

But his eyesight isn’t what it used to be.

Guess the only way to find out is to go inside.

Jonathan sighs. Checks his watch. It’s now or never. He tucks the pill bottle into the pocket of his suit jacket. Just in case. And then he gets out of the car.

Roman greets him inside with a kiss on the cheek—something he has literally never done before—and a halfhearted, “You look nice.” He runs his fingertips up the nape of Jonathan’s neck, feeling for the bristly part of his hair indicating a recent trim. He smiles. “My parents are already at the table. Ordering wine.” His smile slips as his eyes meet Jonathan’s. “Are you… Please tell me you didn’t take anything.”

“I didn’t take anything.”

“Your pupils are _tiny_.”

“I went to the eye doctor.” He kisses the base of Roman’s jaw, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Don’t you trust me?”

“…Okay. Just… _Please_ be functional.”

“I’ll try.” He follows Roman into the main dining area. Follows him to a nice table by the window. A table where two old—but not _too_ old—white people are sitting. Well. That describes _most_ of the tables in this place, but these old white people happen to be Roman’s parents.

It’s not too late to leave.

But Jonathan wasn’t raised to be a quitter. So he smiles politely at Roman’s parents, taking a seat across from his mother. “Hello,” he says sweetly, working as much Southern charm as he can into that one word.

“This is Jonathan,” Roman announces, as if Jonathan were some sort of prize racehorse to be auctioned off.

He can’t help but get _strong_ Get Out vibes from the whole thing.

After a few minutes of hand shaking and strained introductions, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and a wine list.

Jonathan is convinced that all wine tastes the same, but he’s not about to air that particular opinion in front of these people. So he just feigns interest as Roman and his parents quibble over whether a Cabernet or a Cheval Blanc would better compliment the meal.

“Jonathan is the top of his class,” Roman says when all the wine fuss is over, snatching a piece of bread out of the basket. “ _And_ he’s got a full academic scholarship.”

“What are you studying?” his mother, Maria, asks.

“Psychology.” Jonathan takes a sip of his water. He’s feeling… surprisingly good. Calm. Maybe the drugs are finally taking effect. “I’m hoping to become a psychiatrist.”

“A lucrative career,” his father notes. Charles. Jonathan’s surprised he actually remembered either of their names. He’s usually terrible with names.

“Well, I’m not just in it for the money,” he says politely, throwing in a lighthearted chuckle for good measure. “I think the human mind is… fascinating. I think people tend to get swept up in the glamour of abnormal psychology, but I think looking at typical, universal mental processes is equally—if not more—interesting.” He can’t tell if he’s shouting or not. He doesn’t care. “I mean, the mind is capable of so many incredible—”

Roman nudges his leg under the table.

Jonathan stops talking. Clears his throat. “It’s just… something I’m interested in,” he finishes quietly. His stomach churns.

Maria says something. Jonathan isn’t really listening. He takes a sip of his water. Nods. His stomach hurts.

“You seem like a smart boy,” she says, reaching across the table to pat his hand.

So _that’s_ where Roman gets it from. “Thank you,” he says lightly. He suddenly feels… very tired. Warm. The edges of his vision begin to blur slightly. He clears his throat, standing up. The legs of his chair scrape against the hardwood floor. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says, barely able to hear his own voice, “I’m going to… use the restroom.”

Jonathan walks away from the table. Narrowly avoids bumping into a woman standing next to the bar. Narrowly avoids bumping into the bar itself. He finds his way to the bathroom, pushes the door open, and vomits directly into the sink.

Lovely.

He can’t feel his lips. He throws up again, fingers scrabbling at the ceramic basin. He can’t seem to get a solid grasp on anything.

He can’t breathe. He feels awful for whoever’s job it is to clean the bathrooms. He feels awful. He can’t feel his fingers.

Jonathan catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. His skin looks all wrong. And his eyes—He can’t see clearly enough to be able to tell what’s wrong, but he doesn’t… look right.

He doesn’t like what he’s seeing. Why does he have to see this?

And then he’s falling. And it’s the best he’s felt all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't do drugs kids


	22. Chapter 22

Jonathan wakes up to a throbbing in his skull and a funny taste in his mouth. He doesn’t open his eyes at first. Doesn’t want to see what awaits him on the other side of his eyelids. In the back of his mind, he knows where he is. But he keeps his eyes shut. Because seeing it would make it real.

“I know you’re awake.”

Ah. How unfortunate.

“Jonathan. Cut the shit.”

He cracks one eye open, turning his head to search for the source of the voice. A very disgruntled looking Roman sits in a tiny aluminum chair, still in his suit from last night.

Oh. Last night.

“Hey darling,” Jonathan rasps.

“Fuck you.”

Classic Roman. “Look, I know this seems… I know you’re mad.”

“No, you—you don’t get to talk to me right now.”

“Baby—”

“You lied to me,” Roman hisses, pointing accusatorially at Jonathan. “Embarrassed me in front of my family. For what? Just so you can spite me? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, an _overdose?_ ” he snaps, gesturing wildly with his hands. “What, are you a junkie now or something? Do I need to pay for you to go to rehab?”

Oh. That reminds Jonathan that he’s going to have to figure out a way to pay for this little hospital visit. Lovely.

“You can never just let things go right,” he continues, standing up to pace around the room. “You always have to sabotage _everything_ and then act like it’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s my fault,” he says softly.

“I don’t know why I always… put up with this from you.” Roman groans, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted. He never looks exhausted. “I’m going home,” he says tersely. “I think… I don’t think I should see you for a little while.”

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I just think we should take a break.”

It sounds a lot like he’s getting broken up with right now. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.”

Roman nods. Picks his coat up from the back of the chair. “See you in class,” he says, his voice low.

“Yeah. See you around.”

Well. Jonathan sure does love ruining his own life, apparently.


	23. Chapter 23

“Okay, you can use my draft of the Psych journal to help you get started, I’ve done all of the Chem problems and I can send those to you, and… oh, Victor’s outlining the Humanities paper for us, so that’ll be done soon.” Harley taps her chin thoughtfully. “You can probably get extensions on everything since you’re literally in the hospital.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I also brought you this,” she says, taking a large Tupperware full of soup out of her backpack. She places it on the bedside table. “I know getting your stomach pumped probably doesn’t leave you with much of an appetite, but I also know you won’t eat anything unless I physically bring it to you and watch you ingest it.”

“Thanks, Harley,” Jonathan mumbles. He loves Harley, but he honestly just wishes she would go away. He wants to sleep.

“Are they going to make you go to rehab or something?”

“They can’t make me. I’m an adult.”

“Okay, are you _going_ to go?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t afford it.”

“Get Roman to pay,” she says nonchalantly. “If anyone can afford it, he can.”

“He’s… not very fond of me right now.”

“Why not?”

“Why do _you_ think?” he grumbles, rolling over onto his side. “He basically broke up with me.”

“Shit, really?”

“It’s… complicated.” He eyes the soup. It looks like the typical chicken noodle. Looks homemade. He _is_ oddly hungry. “Did you bring spoons?”

“Uh, of _course_ I brought spoons,” Harley says, as if it was a stupid question. She rummages around in her backpack, retrieving a bag full of plastic spoons. “What kind of friend would I be if I made you soup but didn’t bring spoons to eat it?”

“Still a pretty great friend.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I am pretty great.” She pulls the lid off, setting the container on the tray above Jonathan’s bed. “I’m gonna go grab some overpriced sugary bullshit from the vending machine. If you’re not eating this soup when I get back, I’m genuinely going to cry.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Jonathan says, taking a spoon out of the bag. “Don’t be offended if I can’t keep it down, though. It’s not you, it’s the drugs.”

“Noted.”


	24. Chapter 24

Jonathan has been in the hospital for fifty two hours. He’s never been in a hospital overnight before. Hasn’t really been in a hospital at all since… his birth, probably. His grandmother thought modern medicine was a scam. She wasn’t wrong, but he still should’ve been to the doctor more often. Maybe then his heart would work properly. Maybe his _brain_ would work properly.

His phone rings. It’s Edward. Not really the person he was hoping to hear from. He accepts the call. Puts the phone on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Edward says. “Do you want to come over tonight? Oswald’s going to be out of the house for a work thing.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, do you have some grand Sunday night plans?” he asks playfully. “Going to have a cozy night in with Roman?”

“I’m in the hospital.”

“…Actually?”

“Yeah.”                                                                           

“…Yikes.” Jonathan can hear him clear his throat uncomfortably. “What happened?”

His stomach churns. He can’t tell if it’s from the withdrawal or just from nerves. “It was a, um…” He could lie. Say he had appendicitis or something. Something normal. “I had to get my stomach pumped.”

“Why? Did you eat a Tide Pod or something?”

Do real people actually do that? “…It’s a long story.”

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t pry. How long do you think you’ll be there?”

“The doctor said I should stay another day for observation—” meaning detox, “—So I’ll probably be out Tuesday morning or something.”

“That’s good. Well, it sucks that you can’t come over. I wanted to see you again.” Edward says this completely casually, as if he _didn’t_ just say something entirely unexpected and, as far as Jonathan is concerned, completely bizarre. “Let me know when you’re out of the hospital, we can get together then.”

“Sounds good.”

“Well, I’ll let you go,” he murmurs. “Get some rest, okay? Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, I will. Bye.”

“Bye.” He hangs up.


	25. Chapter 25

Jonathan vomits into the bucket beside his bed for a third time, his throat burning. His hair is damp with sweat and plastered against his forehead. He feels like it’s completely unfair that he’s throwing up because he hasn’t even eaten all day. His fingers tremble as he sets the bucket back down on the floor.

He flops back against the mattress, his head sinking into the pillow. At least he’s back in his own room. In his own bed.

But somehow it’s not as comforting as he thought it would be.

Jonathan wishes more than anything that he could talk to Roman. Or even Victor. But neither of them are speaking to him at the moment and Harley’s on a date with her new girlfriend. She goes on a lot of dates these days.

He picks up his phone, skimming aimlessly through his contacts. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Or who he’s looking for.

His thumb settles above Edward’s name in his contacts list. He hesitates. If he calls Edward, he’ll have to explain what’s going on. And risk losing him too.

He doesn’t have a lot of people left who are willing to talk to him right now.

Jonathan sighs, an uncomfortable shiver running through him. He doesn’t want to admit that he needs someone. He’s been self sufficient his whole life, why should things be any different now?

But whether he likes it or not, things _are_ different now. Everything is different now.

So he calls Edward.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I put 3 obscenely short chapters together to make a mid-sized chapter, does that count?

“I would completely understand if you’re not attracted to me anymore after this,” Jonathan rasps, teeth chattering.

“Are you kidding me?” Edward murmurs. “I love a skinny, unwashed boy with a bucket of puke next to his bed. Really gets me hot and bothered.” He smoothes Jonathan’s hair away from his forehead with a warm hand.

He scoffs weakly, nestling against the curve of Edward’s neck. “Asshole.”

“Uh, I know you’re not calling _me_ an asshole,” he says, poking Jonathan in the shoulder. “Not me, the person who is so graciously taking care of you out of the kindness of my own heart. You _must_ be talking about somebody else.”

“Sorry,” he says softly, giving Edward a quick kiss just below his jaw. He becomes acutely aware of how chapped his lips are. How soft Edward’s skin is in comparison. He pulls away. “I really do appreciate you being here.”

“I know.” Edward wraps his arms around Jonathan, trailing his fingertips up his spine. “Although, I have to admit I would’ve expected you to call Roman for something like this. Or one of your other friends.”

“Roman isn’t really… talking to me right now. Neither is Victor. My other friend is being really supportive, but I don’t want to bother her every time I feel vaguely shitty.”

“So you’ll bother me instead?” he teases.

“…Am I actually bothering you?”

“No, of course not. I’m just being mean because we’re not quite close enough for me to feel comfortable being truly vulnerable with you.”

At least he’s honest.

“But I’ll get there eventually,” he reassures Jonathan. “If you’ll let me.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what to say. So he just lets himself be held, his head resting gently against Edward’s shoulder.

And he feels nice for a little while.

____

Jonathan wakes with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. His heart pounds in his chest, beating an irregular pattern against his ribs. He clutches at the front of his shirt. Rolls over onto his side, drawing his knees closer to his stomach.

He feels Edward stir beside him, one arm moving to drape itself lazily across his waist. “You okay?” he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“I’m fine.” He tries to steady his breathing.

“Anything I can get you?”

“No, I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

Edward makes a faint noise of protest. He presses closer to Jonathan, bringing one hand to the side of his face. “You’re burning up,” he says, suddenly seeming much more awake than before. “Let me get you some water, or—”

“Stay here,” he says softly. “Please.”

He relaxes slightly, sinking into the mattress. “Get some rest.”

“I’ll try.”

____

“Do you have to go to class?” Edward breathes, his face pressed gently against the pillow.

“Not for another few hours.” Jonathan kisses the nape of his neck. Rests his forehead against his shoulder. “Stay,” he murmurs.

“I will.”

“I need you,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. He’s not quite sure why he says it. He supposes he expected some amount of hesitance from Edward. Expected having to convince him to stay. He supposes he already prepared himself to say it.

Edward says nothing. He rolls over onto his back, reaching up to loop his arms around Jonathan’s neck. He trails one hand down Jonathan’s back, coming to rest just above the waistband of his pants. “Come here,” he says softly.

Jonathan lowers his head, pressing kisses to the base of Edward’s throat. He can feel Edward’s thighs on either side of his hips, feels his chest rising and falling as he exhales delicate little sighs.

God, he’s beautiful.

It probably isn’t good to fall in love with every boy who is willing to be physically intimate with him. But when he looks at Edward—lovely Edward with his crooked nose and teeth to match, with his soft auburn curls, and the gentle curve of his lips—he really can’t help himself.

It probably isn’t good. He knows that. But when has that ever stopped him before?


	27. Chapter 27

Jonathan sits in the back of the classroom, hunched over his desk. He usually opts for a seat towards the front of the room so he can actually have a chance at seeing the board, but the only air vent in this class is placed at the back of the room. Jonathan, still suffering from a fever, made sure to claim the seat nearest to the vent. The cool air blasting down on him almost makes him feel normal.

Until he switches from being impossibly warm to impossibly cold.

But it’s fine. He’ll cycle back around in a few minutes.

He can’t focus. He’s been staring down at his notebook for the better part of half an hour, his pen poised just above the paper as if prepared to write something. But he hasn’t written anything. He hasn’t even been listening to the lecture. There’s a stabbing pain just behind his left eye, like someone is carefully jabbing a sharpened pencil right into his brain.

He’s taken Advil for the pain. And Aspirin. He even tried Excedrin which, despite giving him a slight burst of energy, did nothing for his head.

The lights are too bright.

Jonathan rests his head gently on the desk, relishing the coolness of the wood as it makes contact with his burning forehead. He’s never fallen asleep in class before. He’s starting to see what all the hype is about.

But he can’t sleep.

He lifts his head, leaning over to rummage around in his backpack. He takes out a small bottle of Vicodin. Well, the bottle is actually for some generic brand vitamin D, but there’s Vicodin _in_ it. He takes two. It’s fine if he just takes two. He puts his head back down on the desk.

The end of class rolls around. And then the end of the next class. And then the end of his last class of the day.

He still feels like shit. His headache hasn’t let up all day, and he’s still feverish and nauseous on top of it all.

When Jonathan gets back to his room he practically collapses onto his bed. He feels like the pain has spread outward from his head, permeating every muscle in his body. He can’t bring himself to move. Even though he’s bored out of his fucking mind. He just lays there. Doing nothing. For hours.

That probably isn’t good, right?


	28. Chapter 28

“Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I was in the hospital,” Jonathan says, lighting a cigarette. He offers the pack to Thomas.

Thomas shakes his head. “That shit can kill you, man,” he says, taking a sip of some juice concoction.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Hey, I’m no worse than your local pharmacist _._ Cigarettes are _designed_ to kill you.”

“I guess they weren’t designed very well because I am still notably alive.” He exhales a stream of smoke for emphasis.

“Alright, whatever.” Thomas wrinkles his nose, making a point of waving the smoke away. “So is this a friendly visit or are you interested in doing business?”

“I’m here to buy,” he says, refusing to dignify Thomas’s assertion of running a ‘business’.

“Well, if you’re looking for opiates I’ve only got Codeine and Hydrocodone right now. You’re a Vicodin guy, right?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you had something a little stronger,” Jonathan says hesitantly. He doesn’t want to overdo it and have to pay for _two_ hospital visits, but he just… needs something to take the edge off. That’s all. “Vicodin isn’t really doing it for me anymore.” He takes another drag on his cigarette, much to Thomas’s disapproval.

“Let’s see… I could probably get you some Fentanyl, if it’s a tolerance thing.” He stares thoughtfully up at the tree they’re sitting under. “You ever take Ketamine?”

“No.”

“Hm. It’s definitely stronger, but I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for.”

At this point he’ll take whatever he can get. “How much?”

“For you… forty for a gram,” Thomas decides. “Or I could sell you some for, like, ten bucks but it’ll be lower quality. And it might be cut with something,” he adds quickly, as if he doesn’t want Jonathan to hear it.

“…I should probably stick to clean stuff.”

“Yeah, good call.”

“Okay,” he says, checking his phone. He has about ten minutes before he has to go to class. “I get my paycheck on Tuesday, can I get it then?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He stands up, brushing grass off his jeans. “See you.”

“Bye. You should quit smoking!” he calls after Jonathan as he makes his way across the campus.

Jonathan rolls his eyes, almost amused by Thomas’s misplaced concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introducing the local drug dealer


	29. Chapter 29

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jonathan mumbles from between Edward’s thighs.

Edward lets out a slow sigh, tugging gently at Jonathan’s hair. “I’d like your full attention,” he murmurs.

“You have it.” He curves his fingers slightly to emphasize his point, delighting in the way Edward’s body reacts involuntarily.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. “Jonathan—”

“Sorry,” he says, pressing a kiss to Edward’s inner thigh. “I’ll stop.” He withdraws his fingers from Edward as he sits up. Wipes his hand roughly against his leg. “What did you want to ask me?”

Edward’s face reddens further. He seems a little uncomfortable with being the sole subject of Jonathan’s focus, despite having explicitly requested it. “I just… I was wondering if you might want to come to dinner with me and my friend Selina and her boyfriend.”

Jonathan is instantly reminded of Roman asking him to meet his parents. Reminded of the disaster that ensued that night. “I don’t know. That might not be the best idea.”

“It’s not going to be like a ‘meeting the parents’ situation,” Edward reassures him, as if reading Jonathan’s mind. “It’s no pressure at all, the place probably won’t even be fancy or anything, and I promise that if you’re really having a terrible time then we can leave.” He reaches for Jonathan’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to make you look bad.”

“You won’t. I can’t promise that you won’t make yourself look bad, but you won’t make me look bad.”

Jonathan sighs, letting his eyes slip shut. His stomach hurts. “Why do you even want me to come?” he asks after a few moments.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

Jonathan doesn’t like the sound of that. “Yes.”

“…I hate my friend’s boyfriend,” Edward admits. “He makes me nervous and they always get weird and couple-y, and I don’t want to be alone at a dinner table with them for an hour and a half.” He laces their fingers together. “I thought it was just going to be me and Selina, but she invited him sort of last minute, and… I didn’t want to be petty and cancel because of him, so I asked if we could make it sort of a, um, a double date thing.” He’s speaking very quickly now, focusing intently on toying with Jonathan’s fingers. “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.”

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Of course, you’re allowed to say no. I can ask someone else. I just… wanted it to be you.”

He feels like he owes Edward this. After all, he’s one of the few people that has actually been caring and kind and supportive towards Jonathan recently. And he appreciates that. “I’ll go.”

Edward’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Sure. It’s the least I could do.”

He sits up, giving Jonathan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Jonathan turns to kiss Edward insistently, pressing him back against the mattress. “And you _promise_ I can leave if I hate it?”

“Cross my heart,” he murmurs. He kisses Jonathan back, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a soft moan as Jonathan’s touch travels down his bare chest. “Can we pick up where we left off?” he asks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm when i wrote this chapter a week ago i thought it was good but now i am reconsidering


	30. Chapter 30

Jonathan watches Edward sleep soundly beside him. He’ll never get over how easy it is for some people to fall asleep. To stay asleep. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Moving carefully so as not to wake Edward, he sits up. He pulls open the top drawer in his bedside table, sifting through empty pill bottles and half empty packs of cigarettes until he finds what he’s looking for. He produces a small bag containing a fine white powder.

Jonathan feels a slight pang of anxiety as he appraises the substance. He sighs. He should’ve told Thomas not to give him any powders. He’s never actually… snorted anything before. He’s only ever seen it done in movies.

After a few minutes of Googling on his phone, he feels like he understands all the technicalities of how to take Ketamine. That isn’t to say that he feels _confident_ doing so—he doesn’t—but at least he knows how. It’s a start.

Edward stirs beside him, his face screwing up as he sleeps—perhaps in response to some dream he’s having. He whimpers softly, reaching blindly in Jonathan’s direction.

Jonathan puts his hand out, allowing Edward to latch onto his wrist with a loose grip. He sighs, looking down at the bag pinched between his forefinger and thumb. Maybe now isn’t the _best_ time to be taking a drug for the first time. He supposes it can wait. At least a few hours.

He lies down beside Edward. Wraps his arms around his waist. Edward nestles against his chest, his breathing growing steady again. Jonathan delivers a featherlight kiss to his forehead as he resigns himself to watching Edward sleep for the rest of the night.


	31. Chapter 31

It’s five o’clock AM. The world is quiet. The sun has yet to rise, Edward is still asleep, and Jonathan’s skin is crawling. His eyes feel… prickly. Every part of his body feels wrong.

He drags his fingernails down his face, his neck, trying desperately to ease the discomfort he’s feeling. It doesn’t help. He wishes he could just unzip his skin and be free of himself for a few moments.

But he can’t.

Jonathan sits up to look at the bag of Ketamine he left atop his bedside table. He picks it up, emptying a small pile onto the tabletop. He forms it into a small line with his fingers—he’s too tired to get out of bed to get a credit card or something. This will have to do.

Google said to use a straw… but he doesn’t have one available. He picks up a small scrap of paper instead, rolling it up as neatly as possible. He feels a pang of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Ignores it. He puts the makeshift straw gingerly into his nose, holding it just above the line of powder. Inhales quickly.

It only takes about ten minutes to hit him.

Fuck.

Jonathan lies back against the bed, feeling his skin melt into the sheets, into the mattress. He feels like all the tension has left his body. Like he can’t discern where he ends and the rest of the world begins. Like he’s floating.

Fuck. It feels so _good_.

He feels Edward’s hand slide up his shirt. Feels it press gently against his stomach. But he feels it as if… as if it were happening to someone else in a different time and a different place and he finds himself very envious of the person who gets to have a beautiful boy’s hand resting against his skin.

He rolls onto his side, allowing himself to engulf Edward with the entirety of his being. He feels Edward’s lips move softly against his neck. And then, as if the two sensations were entirely separate, he hears Edward speak.

“Are you alright?”

Jonathan feels the words vibrate against his throat. “Yes.” The voice that speaks doesn’t sound like his own.

“Have you gotten any sleep at all?” Edward murmurs, a hand moving to caress Jonathan’s hair. He pokes one finger through a particularly tight curl.

“No.” His tongue feels thick.

“Try to get some rest,” he says softly. “You deserve it.”

Jonathan tightens his grasp around Edward’s torso, convinced that if he holds Edward tight enough he’ll be able to absorb the pure tenderness he radiates. Jonathan has always wanted to be tender. Wanted to allow himself to be soft, and sweet, and kind. Like Edward.

“Everything about you is so… good,” he mumbles into Edward’s hair. “It’s incredible.”

“You’re delirious,” he says. “You need to sleep.”

“I think I’m in love with you.” His body utters the words without permission from his brain, but somehow… he seems to know in his bones that it’s okay. It’s okay to say things like that.

“…Goodnight, Jonathan.” Edward’s voice is heavy, bearing the weight of something Jonathan can’t quite place.

He gets the sinking feeling that he’s done something wrong.

“Goodnight,” he says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one step forward, two steps back


	32. Chapter 32

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Jonathan wipes roughly at his nose, pressing the side of his finger against his nostril to try and stem the bleeding. He looks up. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed off,” Victor says, taking a seat across from Jonathan. “But I sort of missed your caustic wit.” He passes Jonathan a napkin.

He pulls his hand away from his nose, grimacing at the streaks of crimson staining his hand, and begins to wipe the blood away with the napkin. He only really succeeds in smearing it around his skin, but it’s better than nothing. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Sure.” Victor produces a large burrito from his backpack, along with a Coke bottle full of orange soda and his Lactaid pill. He takes the pill first. “Have you talked to Roman?” he asks, taking a bite of the burrito.

“No.”

“Figures. He sure is steamed at you.”

“I know.”

Victor chews for a minute or so. Swallows. “I think it’s gotten to the point that his anger at you has surpassed his hatred of me,” he remarks. “I mean, he actually _speaks_ to me now instead of just giving me dirty looks.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s freaky. Like, what alternate universe have I wandered into?” He shakes his head, taking another bite. “Although,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food, “if this was an alternate universe maybe you wouldn’t be a literal drug addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” Jonathan says, feeling a slight sting at the use of the word. “I just made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Sounds like something an addict would say.”

“I’m not—Fuck you,” Jonathan snaps, unable to come up with a better retort. “Did you just come over here to bother me or did you _actually_ want something?”

“I wanted to check on you. You know, because I’m a good fucking friend.”

“Some friend you are,” he grumbles. “You haven’t talked to me since I got out of the hospital, you didn’t even _visit_.”

“Were you expecting me to visit?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Harley did. Even Roman was there the first day.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says again.

Victor takes another bite of his burrito. He says nothing. Jonathan doesn’t say anything either. Frankly, he doesn’t really want to talk to Victor right now. So he decides to leave.

He picks up his bag and the bloody napkin sitting in front of him. “Bye.”

Victor doesn’t even bat an eye. “Later.”


	33. Chapter 33

“Victor called me an addict.”

“Oh, so you talked to him?” Harley says, furiously smashing buttons on her Nintendo DS.

“Briefly.” Jonathan inspects a potted plant sitting on the windowsill. He’s pretty sure it’s new. He’s also pretty sure Harley doesn't like plants. Which means she must be dating someone who does. He decides not to bring it up.

“How’d that go?”

“Not great.”

She sticks the tip of her tongue out, concentrating on her video game. “He told me—aw, damn—he said you did that thing you do where you— _motherFUCKER—_ leave conversations when they don’t go your way.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yeah you do. All the time.”

“Well, he was being a dick,” Jonathan says defensively. “And did you hear what I said? He called me an addict.”

“Uh-huh.”

“ _Me!_ I mean, I’m not—He doesn’t know the first thing about—I’m not _addicted_ to anything.” The back of his neck starts to itch. “I could quit if I wanted to.”

“So are you gonna quit?”

“No. But not because I can’t, because I don’t want to.”

“Right.” She groans, tossing the DS aside in defeat. “Curse you Sasuke and your lightning arm,” she says, shaking her fist dramatically.

“Harley.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” she asks with a sigh. “I mean, if you ask me… Taking a bunch of OxyContin so you don’t get anxious doesn’t exactly scream ‘not an addict’.”

“Well, nobody asked you,” he snaps.

“Seemed a lot like you were asking me.”

“And that was one time,” he continues. “And I only took them because the other stuff I took wasn’t working fast enough.”

“Okay, but like… do you see how that doesn’t seem super healthy?”

“What do you propose I do instead?” he asks, his voice rising. “I mean, all the normal shit doesn’t _work_. I mean, I just want something that’s going to make me feel normal, is that too much to ask? I just want—I want to feel normal. For once.”

“…Okay, I have a lot of opinions about what you just said but I have to let you know that your nose is literally gushing blood right now.”

Jonathan clasps a hand over his nose, blood streaming down his chin. “Fuck,” he mutters. “What a pain.”

“Did you… take something?” Harley asks hesitantly. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, I—I just get them sometimes. When the air is really dry.” Jonathan thinks that’s a real thing that can happen. “I’m fine.”

“There are tissues on the desk.” Harley’s eyes are fixed on him. He can tell she’s worried. He wishes she wouldn’t worry about him. It would make everything so much easier.

“Thanks.” He grabs a fistful of tissues, pressing them against his nose. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Still feeling up to this?”

Jonathan nods. He buttons his shirt up to his throat, decides it looks too stuffy, and undoes the top button.

“That shirt looks nice on you,” Edward murmurs, placing his hand gently on the small of Jonathan’s back.

“Thanks.” He undoes the second button, just to see how it looks. He can’t quite decide if he likes it or not. “I feel somehow underdressed and overdressed at the same time.”

“I know what you mean.” He surveys Jonathan’s reflection in the mirror, biting the inside of his lip. “A jacket might help,” he suggests. “Do you have a blazer?”

Jonathan owns exactly one suit and, therefore, exactly one suit jacket. He has only ever worn it to funerals. It does not fit. “Not really.” He decides to fasten the second button after all. Having them both undone made his neck look too long.

“Well, I’d offer to loan you something but, unfortunately, I am not seven feet tall.”

“I’m not seven feet tall either.”

“Seems debatable.” He drapes his arms over Jonathan’s shoulder, leaning slightly against his back. He delivers a kiss to the space behind Jonathan’s ear. “I think you look great.”

A slight shiver runs down Jonathan’s spine. “It’s just a button down shirt. Nothing fancy.”

“Still. You clean up nicely.”

“You think so?”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Edward asks, feigning indignation. “Well, I _never!_ ”

Jonathan can’t help but laugh at that. He has never heard a real person say ‘Well, I never’ in his entire life. “I’m just saying… I don’t know. It’s nothing special.”

“Well, I’m special enough for the both of us,” he says, patting Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’ve just got to get my shoes on, but otherwise I’m ready to go when you are.”

“I… might need another minute or so. To do something about my hair,” he mutters

“I like your hair,” Edward says. “It looks nice when it’s grown out a bit.”

“Really?” he asks, trying to mask the incredulity in his voice.

Edward nods. “Of course, it looks nice short, too. But I’ve got a soft spot for curly hair,” he admits.

“My grandmother used to make me cut it when it started to get curly again,” he says, absently dragging a hand through his hair. “And Roman never liked it.”

“Well, I’m not Roman.”

“No, you most certainly aren’t.”


	35. Chapter 35

Edward sighs, looking pointedly down at his watch. “She always does this,” he grumbles. “ _She_ decides what time we’re going to meet, and then _she_ always shows up late.” He slumps in his seat, looking very much like a petulant child. “If she shows up with an enormous hickey like she did last time… I don’t know _what_ I’ll do.”

Jonathan takes a slice of bread out of the basket sitting in the center of the table. “If they’re not here in fifteen minutes, we’re legally allowed to leave,” he says dryly as he butters the bread.

Edward lets out a small breath that could, under the right circumstances, pass as laughter. “Hush,” he murmurs, swatting Jonathan’s arm lightly.

He smiles. Takes a bite of the bread. It’s good. Restaurant bread is always good. And, if he eats enough bread, he can get away with only ordering an appetizer and not having to pay for a full entrée that he definitely cannot afford.

Roman says that’s a depressing way to live one’s life. Jonathan, however, calls it a life hack.

“Darling!” a voice calls, accompanied by the clicking of high heels against hardwood.

Edward perks up, turning over his shoulder to seek out the source of the voice. “Selina!” he says brightly. “And… Mr. Wayne.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bruce?” a man says, sliding into the seat across from Jonathan.

Oh. Jonathan recognizes him. Well, he sort of recognizes him twice. Once as famed billionaire and orphan Bruce Wayne, and once as Roman’s annoying high school friend Bruce Wayne.

“I will call you Bruce the day hell freezes over and not a moment before,” Edward says politely, a wide smile plastered on his face.

Jonathan has never cared for Bruce. He’s sort of pleased to see that Edward shares his opinion.

“Eddie, dear,” Selina says, taking the seat in front of Edward. “Try to be civil.”

He rolls his eyes, slouching back in his seat once again. “I hope you know that you’re dreadfully late.”

“We got a little… tied up.” She leans forward, as if to divulge a salacious secret. “Or, should I say, _he_ was the one getting tied up.”

Jonathan tries not to choke on his bread.

Edward seems less than amused by this little quip. “And it was absolutely necessary for you to earn your merit badge in knot tying _right before_ this dinner that _you_ planned?”

She shrugs, seemingly unfazed by Edward’s annoyance. “Perhaps the prospect of upsetting you with my tardiness just puts me in the mood.”

He scoffs derisively, rolling his eyes. “You’re gross.”

“I try,” she says lightly. “Now, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend?”

“Oh, of course!” Edward says, his mood brightening again. “This is Jonathan.”

“Hello,” Jonathan says.

“Nice to finally meet you after weeks of listening to Edward gush about how tall you are,” Selina says, extending her hand to him.

He shakes her hand. “Well, being tall _is_ my most salient feature.”

“Do I… know you from somewhere?” Bruce asks.

“I’m d—I used to date Roman. Sionis.”

“Oh, right,” he says. “Roman mentioned you were in the hospital recently. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“What were you in the hospital for?” Selina asks.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Jonathan says, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“Roman said something about it being a substance abuse thing, I think,” he continues, seemingly struggling to remember the details of their conversation. “He seemed pretty ticked off about it for some reason.”

Selina’s gaze shifts sharply to Jonathan. “Are you an alcoholic?” she asks, her tone taking on a more serious edge.

Jonathan almost wishes he was an alcoholic. It would save him the trouble of having to explain what he actually is. “No, I—”

“Selina,” Bruce says quietly. “You can’t just… ask people that.”

“If he’s an alcoholic, I want to know,” she says tensely. “I think that’s an important little tidbit of information, don’t you?”

“Can we _please_ order something?” Edward interrupts. “We’ve been sitting here for at _least_ fifteen minutes and I’m starving.”

“Did you know that he was an alcoholic?” she asks, turning on Edward.

“He’s not an alcoholic,” Edward says simply. “Can we not do this right now?”

Jonathan decides that he needs to leave. “I’m going to get some air,” he says, loud enough for Edward to hear but quiet enough that the other two can’t. He gets up from his seat, weaving through the arrangement of tables until he reaches the front door of the restaurant. He steps outside into the cool evening air, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest.

Edward slips outside a few moments later. “I’m sorry about her,” he says softly. “She’s just… trying to look out for me, I think.”

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. I mean, even if you _were_ an alcoholic it wouldn’t be okay.” He sighs. “She just… I don’t know. I’ve had some bad experiences with… alcoholics and addicts. I think she just wants to make sure I’m not putting myself into toxic situations.”

“Understandable.” Jonathan digs the tip of his fingernail into his wrist.

“I’m going to talk to her later,” he says, taking Jonathan’s hand into his own. “Is it okay if I tell her about… your situation?”

Jonathan shrugs. “I guess.”

“I won’t tell her anything you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t care what you tell her.”

“Okay.” He gives Jonathan’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Should we go back inside? Or do you want to leave?”

Jonathan wants to leave. He _really_ wants to leave. But he also thinks he deserves a fancy pasta dish. “Let’s go back in,” he says. “I’m really fucking hungry,” he admits.

Edward grins. “Yeah. Me too.”


	36. Chapter 36

“I’m sorry tonight was such a shit show.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jonathan leans back, resting his head against Edward’s stomach. “I think I just ruin everything.”

“Don’t say that,” Edward murmurs. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Your friend wouldn’t have gotten mad if I wasn’t there,” he mumbles. He trails his index finger down Edward’s exposed thigh, walking two fingers across his knee.

“So you’re blaming yourself for what? For existing?”

“I don’t know.” His throat feels tight. “I just… I don’t think I know how to be a person sometimes.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. “It’s like everyone else is a full human being but I’m just… sludge. Inside a human suit.”

“Oh,” Edward says softly. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… This isn’t really the same thing, but sometimes… sometimes I feel like—well, like you said—everyone else is a full person.” He absently drags his fingers through Jonathan’s hair. “But I just take bits of other people and slap them onto myself to create this… haphazard collage of traits that I liked in other people. But when _I_ take them they don’t… work right.”

Jonathan nods. “Like a puzzle with only corner pieces.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Edward says emphatically, poking Jonathan’s forehead for emphasis. “And it’s like… this is working for other people, so why can’t _I_ do it?”

“Right. No matter what I do, I’m always doing it wrong.”

“Yeah. I know how you feel.”

They sit in silence for a few moments. Edward continues to run his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, twisting a strand of hair around his pinky. Jonathan just stares up at the ceiling of Edward’s bedroom. It’s nice being able to just… talk to someone.

He can’t remember the last time he had an honest conversation with somebody.

“Can I ask you something?” Edward asks after a while.

“I guess.”

“So… This might’ve been a dream or something but… did you say you were in love with me?”

Jonathan’s heart drops straight down into his ass. “When?”

“Like a week ago or so. When I stayed over at your dorm. It was like the middle of the night or something, and I woke up and… well, I think you said you were in love with me.”

Oh. Fuck. “Um…” He has practically no memory of that whole evening. “I mean…” He wouldn’t put it past himself to get fucked up and say something stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I don’t really… remember,” he says lamely.

“Oh.”

Jonathan can’t tell if that’s a disappointed ‘oh’ or a relieved ‘oh’. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Edward says quickly. “It’s just—I don’t know. It’s been on my mind and I would’ve asked sooner but… I don’t know.” He clears his throat. “Forget I said anything.”

“That shouldn’t be any problem. I seem to be very forgetful these days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gay culture is having a long late night discussion of all the reasons u hate yourself


	37. Chapter 37

Jonathan stares up at the sky, gazing at the passing clouds with a soft focus. He feels the grass cushioning the ground beneath him. Feels the exact location where each individual blade of grass brushes against his skin. A beetle crawls across one of his knuckles. He sees it before feeling the gentle touch of its legs. It flies away and, as Jonathan watches it, the rest of the world fades away. As if he’s only meant to see the beetle.

For the first time in his life, his mind is completely blank. And it feels good.

Until something blocks out the sun.

Jonathan squints at the sudden darkness, tilting his head back to see what’s obstructing the light.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Jonathan says, still squinting.

“What are you doing out here?” Roman asks.

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to get grass stains on your clothes.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He wants Roman to move so he can see the sun again. He suddenly feels very… cold. He can’t remember if he felt this cold before going outside.

“Bruce said he went to dinner with you.”

That’s a weird way of putting it. “It was a double date.”

“So you’re dating someone new already?” Roman asks dryly. “We never even broke up, officially.”

Jonathan isn’t high enough to deal with this. “It was one date,” he says. He begins to notice how uncomfortable the grass is. It sticks to his skin, like hundreds of little fingers plastered against his body. He shifts slightly. “We’re just hooking up.”

“He must be a good lay if you’re willing to go on a double date with him,” he remarks snidely. “Shit, if _I’d_ asked you to go on a double date with my friends you would’ve bitten my head off.”

“He’s been really nice to me. I felt like I owed him.”

“And you don’t feel like you owe me for all the time and energy I’ve put into you? Into this relationship?”

This might be the drugs talking, but Jonathan can’t remember the last time Roman actually… did something for him. “He was taking care of me. After I got back from the hospital.”

Roman scoffs. “Wow. What bullshit did you pull to get him to do that?”

“I just asked.”

“You know, you can’t always ask people to do shit for you. You have to learn to take care of yourself.”

Fuck. Did he actually manipulate Edward into being there for him? He tries to think back to that day, tries to remember what he said. Did Edward seem… upset with him? He can’t remember. He can’t remember anything lately. “Sorry.”

Roman sighs, sitting on the ground beside Jonathan. “You apologize too much.”

Jonathan can feel the sunlight on his skin, but it does nothing to ease the chill he feels. “I know.”

“Do you want to come over? We can order food, talk about… things,” he offers.

Jonathan is reminded of how good it felt to just… talk to Edward. Maybe all he needed to do was talk to Roman. Maybe that’ll fix things. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes


	38. Chapter 38

“Have you gotten thinner?”

“I don’t know.”

“You look thinner,” Roman murmurs, smoothing his hands down Jonathan’s bare sides. “And your hair’s grown out,” he says disapprovingly. “You really haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?”

“I guess not.”

“Christ, we split up for a month and you practically fall apart.” He bends to press a kiss to Jonathan’s collarbone. “Looks like you needed me.”

“I guess so.” Jonathan sobered up about ten minutes ago. Coincidentally, he also stopped enjoying Roman’s company about ten minutes ago. Weird.

Roman nips at Jonathan’s skin, pressing him down into the mattress. He turns his attention to Jonathan’s throat. He sucks roughly on the skin at the base of his neck. Jonathan isn’t sure if he likes that or not.

Roman’s hands travel down to Jonathan’s hips. He slips his fingers into the belt loops on his jeans, his knee pushing its way between Jonathan’s thighs. Jonathan digs his fingers into the sheets. He shouldn’t be doing this.

He pulls away from Jonathan for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Then he begins to unbuckle Jonathan’s belt.

Jonathan feels a pang of some unidentifiable emotion in the pit of his stomach. “Stop,” he says, his voice barely more than a breath. “I want to stop.”

“Come on,” Roman says softly, delivering a kiss to Jonathan’s neck. “I’ll let you top if you want,” he murmurs against his skin.

“No, I—I should go. I’ve got… stuff.”

He scoffs. “‘Stuff’?” he says incredulously. “What are you actually going to do? Go fuck your little boyfriend?”

“I just want to go home,” he says. “It’s not you—” Yes it is. “—I’m just not in the mood.”

“You always fucking do this,” Roman grumbles, pulling away from Jonathan nonetheless. “Fine. Whatever. Go home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go.”

So he goes. And he’s not sure if he made the right decision.


	39. Chapter 39

“Is Victor coming over?” Jonathan asks.

Harley shakes her head, devolving into a coughing fit as she exhales a mouthful of smoke. “He bailed,” she wheezes, passing the pipe to Jonathan. “Fuck. I think I’m dying.”

He gives her a solid pat on the back. “I thought you were the weed queen.”

“I don’t _smoke_ , dude,” she rasps. “I vape. And take edibles.” Her eyes are watering a little bit.

“Well, you should’ve said something,” he says with a shrug. He lights the pipe, taking a much bigger hit than Harley did. “Did Victor bail because of me?” he asks, breathing out a clean stream of smoke.

“Nah, I think his parents are in town or something.”

“Lucky him.” Jonathan doesn’t buy it. Victor’s mom smokes more weed than anyone he’s ever met, there’s no way he’d just ditch them because of his parents. Hell, he’d probably bring them along with him. He offers her the pipe again. “Want to give it another try?”

She shakes her head vigorously, holding her hands up in the shape of a T. “I’m tapping out. I’m not tryna be like that lady on the TV with the hole in her throat.”

“I think that’s just for people who smoke cigarettes.” He holds the lighter to the pipe again, taking a deep breath. “And I don’t want to be high by myself.”

“That’s never bothered you before.”

“Pills don’t count.”

“If you say so.”

Jonathan’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out. Edward is calling him. “One second,” he says to Harley, holding the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

“I’m hanging out with Harley.” He leans back against the base of her bed. “What about you?”

“I’m bored,” Edward’s voice whines through the speaker. “Oswald sexiled me from the house so I’m just wandering around doing nothing.”

Jonathan doesn’t know what ‘sexiled’ means. “That sucks.” He closes his eyes. Damn, it really does feel good to not have to look at things. “Well, you can come hang out with us but I’ve got to warn you that I’m… moderately high right now.”

There’s a pause. “…On what?” Edward asks after a few moments.

“Just weed,” he says reassuringly. “I don’t really do the other stuff anymore.”

“Oh, okay. Is it okay with Harley if I drop by?”

Jonathan turns to Harley, moving the bottom of the phone away from his mouth. “Can Edward come over?”

She shrugs. “Is he gonna narc on us?”

“No.”

“Then sure.”

“Harley said it’s fine,” he says into the phone.

“Alright. Text me where you are, I’ll be there in a little bit.”

“Okay.”

____

“You don’t strike me as a weed person,” Jonathan says, lazily running his fingers through Edward’s hair.

“I’m not like a stoner, but I… partake. Infrequently.” Edward nestles against Jonathan’s chest, their legs tangling together loosely. “It helps me sleep sometimes.”

“Hm.” Edward’s hair smells like lavender and citrus. And it’s so _soft_. “I love your hair,” he mumbles, giving the top of his head a clumsy kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Get a room,” Harley groans, mashing her thumbs against the buttons of her DS.

Jonathan sticks his tongue out at her. “That’s homophobic.”

“I’m queer too,” she points out.

“Internalized homophobia,” he announces. “Ever heard of it?”

Edward giggles, burying his face in Jonathan’s shoulder.

Harley narrows her eyes at them. “I should’ve known better than to let your boyfriend come over,” she grumbles. “Damn couples, couple-ing it up all over the place.”

“You’re just mad because we’re so cute,” Edward says, pressing a kiss to the base of Jonathan’s jaw. He frowns. Pulls Jonathan’s collar aside, revealing a large, purple hickey. “Where’d you get this?” he asks.

“Oh.” Jonathan feels a pang of anxiety. “I… was going to hook up with Roman. But then I didn’t.”

“So Roman gave you this enormous hickey?”

“Are you talking to Roman again?” Harley asks, glancing up from her game.

“No. I don’t know.” He feels their eyes on him. “He ambushed me the other day and I wasn’t really… in my right mind.”

She leans over, stage whispering to Edward, “That means he was high.”

Edward gives Jonathan a look. “I thought you said you didn’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t. Most of the time.” Jonathan feels his heart rate start to pick up. “It was just—you know, I was having a rough day, and I—I mean, it was just a little bit—” He feels like his peripheral vision is beginning to go black. “—And they use it in hospitals, so—”

“What did you take?” Edward asks.

“It’s fine. It’s safe.”

“Jonathan. Tell me what you took.”

His throat feels tight. He’s ruining everything. Edward is going to leave him like everyone else and it’ll be his fault. It’s always his fault. He’s having trouble breathing. “It’s fine,” he repeats. “I’m fine.”

“Jon,” Harley says. She sets down the DS, seeming vaguely concerned. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” he says, raising his voice. “What makes you think I’m not calm?”

“You’re… kind of yelling.”

“I’m _NOT_ —I’m not yelling. I’m not.” His fingers are trembling.

“Hey,” Edward says softly, taking Jonathan’s hand into his own. “Let’s take a walk, okay? I think you need some air.”

He nods quickly, keeping his eyes low. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one time i got high and had a panic attack on the sidewalk because i thought i was too high. fun stuff


	40. Chapter 40

As soon as Jonathan steps outside it’s like a thick fog clears from his brain. He realizes that he’s been hyperventilating for the past few minutes and his whole body is practically vibrating with nervous energy.

The whole thing seems so… stupid now.

Now he’s just kind of hungry.

“Do you always have panic attacks when you smoke?” Edward asks, steering Jonathan down the sidewalk.

“No. I think it’s only happened once or twice.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes. Edward maintains a loose grip on Jonathan’s arm, like he’s prepared for Jonathan to run away at any moment.

“I took Ketamine,” Jonathan says after a while. “A few times.”

“What the hell is Ketamine?” Edward asks.

“I think it’s an anesthetic,” he says. “And I saw a bunch of think-pieces about using it to treat depression. And giving it to children.”

“That… doesn’t sound safe.”

“It’s probably not.” They turn a corner. “It’s a real good high, though .”

Edward doesn’t respond to that. He kicks a pebble down the street. “Can I ask you something?” he mumbles.

“I guess.”

“Why do you… do drugs all the time?”

…Huh? “What do you mean why?”

Edward gives him a puzzled look. “Just… why do you do it?”

Oh. No one has ever asked him why. “I don’t know. It feels good.”

“But like, why did you start?” he presses.

That is a very good question. “Um…” He tries to remember the first time. “I think I was like… really fucking anxious all the time. And then some kid at a party gave me a Xanax. And… I don’t know. That was good.”

“Yeah, but, how do you go from taking a Xanax for anxiety to overdosing on opiates?”

Another good question. Jonathan thinks for a moment. He tilts his head back, looking up at the sky. He can see the trees overhead. The clouds. It’s… really weird to look straight up at the sky while walking.

“Jonathan?” Edward asks, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

Oh whoops, he was supposed to be thinking about something. He lets his head fall back down to a normal level. “Sorry, what?”

“Xanax to opiates. Explain.”

“Oh right. Yeah… I dunno, I think it was just like… after a while of taking Xanax it stopped feeling good and just started feeling regular. And then I wanted it to feel good again. So I think I started taking… Vicodin? Or something.” He shrugs. “And now I do Ketamine.”

“And you didn’t once stop to think that maybe, _just maybe_ , taking a medical grade anesthetic right after a drug overdose might be a bad idea?”

Jonathan suddenly feels very… hollow. “I was planning to stop,” he says softly, staring down at the pavement. “But then after I OD’d, I just… felt like shit all the time. So I tried taking the pills again, but it didn’t really do anything.” He steps on a large, jagged crack in the sidewalk. “It was like… I felt so bad that nothing could make me feel good enough to compensate.”

“That sounds awful,” Edward murmurs. His grip on Jonathan’s arm tightens. “So you started taking Ketamine instead?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s… that makes you feel good?”

“God, it’s _so_ fucking good,” he breathes. “Better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Edward says nothing. Jonathan instantly wishes he hadn’t said that.

They walk past a convenience store. Jonathan is reminded of how hungry he is. It’s like a life or death type of hunger. “Can we please go eat somewhere?” he asks, hoping to lighten the mood a little. “I’m starving.”

“There’s a pizza place down the street,” Edward suggests. He still sounds vaguely sad, and his gaze is dull and unfocused. “They have really cheap slices.”

Jonathan hates himself for making everyone so sad. “Sounds good to me. Maybe we should call Harley and see if she wants us to bring her some.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

“Yeah.”


	41. Chapter 41

Jonathan bolts upright in bed, gasping for air. He covers his mouth with his hand, sinking his teeth into the heel of his palm. Tears sting the backs of his eyes. He wants to scream. But all he can manage is a muffled sob.

Edward wakes up shortly after. He reaches for Jonathan in the dark, murmuring something Jonathan can’t quite hear. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice heavy from sleep.

“No,” Jonathan rasps. “I’m not.”

“Talk to me,” Edward says softly. He sits up beside Jonathan, rubbing his back in a slow circle. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair. “I have nightmares sometimes. Most of the time. It’s—I’m handling it.”

Edward rests his chin on Jonathan’s shoulder. “You don’t have to handle it all by yourself. I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. Edward’s body is warm against his own. It feels good. He feels… sort of safe. His breathing begins to slow.

His phone buzzes from its place on the bedside table, the screen shining brightly in the otherwise pitch dark room. He squints, trying to read the notification without moving. It’s a text.

_Roman: u up?_

Christ, he’s like a fucking vulture.

_Roman: Jonathan I know ur awake_

_Roman: You never fucking sleep_

“Do you want to answer those?” Edward asks.

“No. I don’t.” He leans over, flipping his phone to lay it face down on the table. It continues to vibrate. “God damn it, will he give it a fucking rest?” he grumbles.

“Who’s texting you?”

“Roman. I think he’s trying to get me to hook up with him.”

“…Do you want to hook up with him?” he asks carefully.

“I mean, it’s the middle of the night. I’m not really in a hooking up mood.”

“But, in general, do you still… are you still into him?”

“Not really.” He shrugs. “He gives good head but he always tries to start fights with me and then act like it’s my fault.”

“So he’s gaslighting you?”

“…I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, it’s like what you said,” Edward says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s like… when someone tries to make you doubt yourself so they can manipulate you.”

“Oh.” Yikes.

“Has he been doing that, like… the whole time you were together?”

“Not the whole time. He was nice in the beginning.”

“And then what happened?” Edward asks.

“…I don’t know. He just… started being a dick about stuff.” Jonathan sighs heavily, the reality of how truly exhausted he is finally setting in. “He was drinking a lot at the time. I thought that might’ve been the reason. But then he stopped drinking so much and… kept being an asshole.”

“Why did you date him for so long?”

“I don’t know. I guess…” Fuck. He doesn’t want to say what he’s actually thinking because he doesn’t want Edward to think he’s a pathetic piece of shit. Which he is. But he doesn’t want _Edward_ to know that. “I don’t know.”

“Jonathan,” he says softly. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

“Judgmental people always say that to trick you into telling them things so they can judge you.”

“I promise this isn’t a scheme,” Edward says, trailing his fingers up and down Jonathan’s spine. “I just want to understand.”

Jonathan heaves another sigh. Well, he’s already been emotionally vulnerable today. Might as well keep the momentum going. “…I just… liked knowing that someone wanted me. Because no one ever had before. That’s it.”

“Oh,” Edward murmurs. “Darling.”

“I know it’s stupid and pathetic, but… I needed someone, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “I’ve—I get it.”

“Yeah.” He reaches over to check his phone. Five new texts, four of which are from—you guessed it—Roman.

_Roman: I miss u_

_Roman: Come over_

_Roman: Come overrrrrrrrr_

_Roman: Are you with Victor?_

_Victor: Tell Roman to stop texting me_

As he’s reading through the texts, another one pops up on the screen.

_Harley: Did u tell Roman u were with me? I vouched for u but idk what’s going on_

He smiles slightly. At least Harley will always be there for him.

“What’s the word?” Edward asks, laying back down and burrowing beneath the blankets.

“Well, Roman has moved on to texting my friends, who are now texting me to tell him to stop. But I can’t keep up the pretense of being asleep if I answer or open any of these texts so… I’m not going to do anything right now.” He turns off his phone, laying down beside Edward. “This is a problem for Morning Jonathan.”

Edward sighs contentedly, nestling against Jonathan’s chest. “Morning Jonathan is going to be pissed at you,” he mumbles in a vaguely sing-song voice.

“He always is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone needs to get Roman some water to quench that thirst tbh


	42. Chapter 42

_Roman: hey_

_Roman: Jon_

_Roman: hey Jon_

_Roman: bitch_

Jonathan groans. He rolls onto his stomach, his cheek pressed up against the pillow, and reaches for his phone. Thirty missed texts from Roman. Three from Harley. One from Victor. He doesn’t open a single one of them. Instead, he decides to play Snake until Edward wakes up. It’s probably a better use of his time than texting Roman back.

Half an hour and twenty-six games of snake later, Edward stirs beside Jonathan. He yawns softly, poking his head out from beneath the blankets. “Good morning,” he mumbles drowsily.

“Morning.”

“Is Morning Jonathan going to answer his texts?”

At least he can always count on Edward to keep him honest. “Y’know, I think it’s about time that Afternoon Jonathan started pulling his weight around here.”

He can practically hear Edward rolling his eyes. “Ignoring them won’t make them go away.”

“You don’t know that. To be honest, I don’t really understand how cell phones work, so it’s entirely possible that ignoring them will, in fact, make them go away.” He shrugs. “I’m not a scientist but it seems like I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance.”

Edward swats his arm gently. “If you don’t read them, I will.”

“Okay.”

“…That was supposed to be a threat.”

“Oh. Will you read them anyway?”

“I suppose.” He sits up, his auburn hair sticking up in all directions. He puts his hand out. “Phone, please.”

Jonathan hands it to him, relieved to not have to sift through all those messages. God, he hates texting.

Edward furrows his brow, scrolling through the text conversation. It faintly occurs to Jonathan that he may be scrolling back further than necessary, but he can’t really be bothered to care. His texts are pretty innocuous.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like Roman sent anything of much importance. Around two AM he just sent ‘hey’ six times in a row.” Edward clicks on something. “He sent you a picture of his ass, do you want to see it?”

“Not really.”

“It’s… pretty flat.”

“Yep.” Jonathan has come to the conclusion that white boys don’t know how to take nudes.

“Harley says she told Roman that you two were having a study date, in case he asks about it. Aaaand…” He pauses. “Victor sent you a very long text that I am too tired to read right now.” He passes the phone back to Jonathan.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He lays back down to rest his head on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can you get me a Lyft in like… twenty minutes? I’ve got to go home so I can get my work clothes.”

“Alright.”

Edward presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Thanks. I can pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind paying.”

“You sure?”

He nods.

Edward smiles softly, wrapping an arm around Jonathan’s waist. “How chivalrous.”

“I try.”


	43. Chapter 43

"Did you do the lab?”

Jonathan glances up at Victor. He shrugs. “I skipped some questions.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He opens his backpack, pulling out a slightly crumpled packet of papers. He hands it to Victor. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, man.”

Jonathan sips his coffee. Watches Victor copy down the answers in chicken-scratch handwriting. “You sent me a text.”

Victor pauses, pen hovering above the paper. “Yeah,” he says after a moment.

“I didn’t read it.”

“Oh.” He goes back to writing. “Probably for the best.”

“Why’s that?”

“I regretted sending it as soon as I did,” he mumbles. “I was just… being a dick to you for no reason.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I talked to Harley.”

“Okay.”

“She said it seemed like you were having a really hard time.”

Of course she did.

“Look, I just—I don’t want you to think that I’m… mad at you. For OD’ing,” he says quickly.

“Gee, what reason could I possibly have to think _that?_ ” Jonathan mutters scathingly. He takes another sip of his coffee to stop himself from saying something mean. He’s tired of being mean to people.

“Okay, I know I said I was pissed at you, but it wasn’t—” He cuts himself off with a groan, setting his pen down. “I was just fucking worried about you, dude. I mean, you could’ve died and I was… angry that you put yourself in that situation.”

“So it still sounds like you’re mad at me.”

“I mean, of course I was mad at you, I’m not going to lie, but it wasn’t like… I wasn’t mad that you overdosed. I was just… fucking pissed that you felt like you had to take drugs to the point of overdosing.” He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to erase it like an Etch-A-Sketch. “I don’t know, that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“Not really.”

“The point is, I’m sorry for being an asshole. You… you were going through some shit and I should’ve been there for you.” He rubs his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Alright?”

Jonathan doesn’t really… have anything to say. He knows he’s supposed to say something to comfort Victor, or to ease his guilt, but… He doesn’t want to do that. So he just says, “Yeah. Okay.”

And that’s the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 45 is going to be the last chapter. idk if i'm gonna do another long fic once this one is done.


	44. Chapter 44

“How’ve you been?” Roman asks softly, running his fingers easily through his hair.

Jonathan refrains from scoffing. “Since when do you care?”

“I’ve always cared.” Jonathan gives him a doubtful look and he shrugs. “I’m just… not always the best at it,” he admits.

Understatement of the century. “No. You’re not.”

Roman doesn’t respond to that. He sits down on the edge of his sofa. Crosses his ankles. “You don’t look so good,” he says finally, glancing up at Jonathan.

He doesn’t feel so good either. “Can I just get my shit and go? Please.”

“…Yeah. Sure. Everything’s in that box.” He points to an old cardboard box sitting beside the coffee table.

Jonathan peers inside. It’s mostly empty, save for a few various trinkets. A toothbrush, a razor. A couple miscellaneous items of clothing. Nothing he would’ve missed particularly if he didn’t get it back. Perhaps he should’ve just saved himself the trouble and let Roman keep his box of crap.

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Listen, I… is this because of that guy? Because I don’t care if you’re seeing someone else, I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time that we—”

“It’s not about him.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Jonathan can tell he’s getting annoyed. Good.

“I just… don’t think this is right for me,” he mumbles. He makes himself very busy with sifting through the box, even though there are only about ten things in it. He just needs something to do with his hands.

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?” Roman asks, lowering his voice as if afraid that someone will hear them.

“It’s not about you.” Yes it is.

“Then what is it about?” he snaps.

“I don’t know, Roman. I just—I don’t like being with you anymore.” He sighs. He doesn’t like having to provide an explanation for every single thing he does. “Besides, you broke up with me first. I didn’t ask _you_ for a reason.”

Roman tenses visibly. “I didn’t break up with you. We were taking a break.”

“ _You_ decided _you_ were taking a break. And then you left me.” In the hospital, no less. “Seemed like a breakup to me.”

“It wasn’t like that, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He gets up from the sofa, reaching for Jonathan’s hand. “Baby—”

“Stop,” Jonathan says tersely, snatching his hand away. “You always try to—You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m going home.”

Roman is quiet for a minute or so. He watches Jonathan fuss with the objects in the box. “Do I get a kiss goodbye?” he asks after a while, something like humor creeping into his voice.

Jonathan grips the edges of the box so tightly his knuckles go white. “Are you actually trying to flirt with me right now?”

“…Is it working?”


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recovery isn't linear, folks.

Jonathan walks stiffly down the sidewalk, clutching the box containing his belongings tightly in his arms. He doesn’t really know where he’s going. His truck is still sitting outside Roman’s apartment. He doesn’t trust himself to drive right now.

He feels painfully tense. All over. And his skin is crawling.

He should go back. Finish what he started. Lord knows he deserves some Goddamn gratification after the week he’s had. After the _life_ he’s had.

He turns a corner.

It doesn’t make any sense to go back—he can satisfy himself with anyone. It doesn’t have to be Roman.

Why does he _want_ to go back?

Jonathan trips over a crack in the sidewalk. The box tumbles out of his hands, his possessions spilling onto the ground. He manages to stay upright, but his ankle twists painfully and he places his hand on the nearest car to steady himself.

He grits his teeth. “Idiot,” he grumbles, kicking the box with his uninjured foot. He’s overcome with the urge to scream, to do _something_ to just… relieve the awful feeling so ingrained in him it might as well be built into his bones.

He kicks the car parked beside him. Kicks it again. He thinks… it might feel good to punch something. So he punches the car. It doesn’t make him feel better. In fact, it just makes his hand hurt. He punches it again anyway.

“I get that Priuses are kind of awful, but what did that one do to deserve all the abuse?”

Jonathan stills. He looks up from the car, noticing the street signs for the first time. Ah. Of course he would end up here. “It’s not yours, is it?” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“I don’t drive,” Edward says, descending the front steps of his apartment. He looks down at the empty box and the scattered items littering the sidewalk. “What’s with the junk?”

“I… It’s all the stuff I left at Roman’s apartment. Went to pick it up.”

“I see.” He bends down, setting the box right side up. He brushes some dirt off a sweater, folding it back up and placing it in the bottom of the box. “How’d that go?”

“Just peachy,” Jonathan mutters through a tightly clenched jaw. “Couldn’t you tell?”

Edward chuckles softly, continuing to put things back in the box. “Did something happen?”

“No. Not really.” He exhales slowly through his teeth. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, folding another sweater. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… we just… messed around a bit,” Jonathan mumbles. He leans back against the car, easing the weight off his twisted ankle. “Before I left.”

“Oh.”

“We didn’t hook up,” he adds, as if it really matters. “I just… let him do some stuff.”

“Okay,” Edward says softly. Jonathan can’t determine what emotion is behind his tone. He thinks it might be better not to know.

“I didn’t even… like it,” he says lamely. “I thought it might… make me feel better, but… Fuck. Why do I keep doing this?” He says it more to himself than to Edward.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.” Edward straightens up, passing the box to Jonathan. “Do you want to come inside?”

“I don’t know.” He’s so tired. He just wants to rest. For once.

Edward reaches to squeeze Jonathan’s shoulder. “Come inside,” he murmurs. “And we can talk about it.”

Jonathan doesn’t have the energy to resist Edward. He doesn’t know if he’d want to even if he did. So instead of giving some sort of wishy-washy response, he just says, “Yeah. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know literally no one wanted me to write this fic (it shows) so now it's done. Thanks if you made it to the end.


End file.
